


To Catch a Blacklister

by timelessish (ofcoffeeanddonuts)



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: Definitely more plot than necessary, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Keenler - Freeform, Kidnapping, Liz is a badass who can take care of herself, Some Fluff, Undercover as a Couple, but keenler endgame, more plot than intended, some lizzington if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-17 16:29:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11855409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofcoffeeanddonuts/pseuds/timelessish
Summary: Liz and Ressler are undercover as a couple at a gala to catch their latest Blacklister. Red crashes the party and things get crazy. Plot and feelings happen.





	To Catch a Blacklister

**Author's Note:**

  * For [remembereveryword](https://archiveofourown.org/users/remembereveryword/gifts).



> Prompt fills:  
> ○ Liz and Ressler undercover as a couple to catch a Blacklister  
> ○ Liz and Red get captured, and Liz is forced to profile Red
> 
> ft. badass liz, keenler, and a red/liz relationship that is NOT father/daughter, per request!

"Stop squirming, you look fine." Ressler's breath is warm on her neck as he leans in to whisper into her ear under the pretense of pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek. She huffs a little, trying to ignore the heat of his hand on her waist as they stroll through the gala, all too aware of the eyes on them. 

"I'm not squirming," she mutters under her breath, " _and_ I know I look fine, thank you very much." His body shakes the tiniest amount against hers and she knows without looking that he's suppressing a chuckle and that infuriating smirk he used to flash at her before - before she went on the run and had a baby with Tom. The thought still leaves an unpleasant taste in her mouth; that she left Ressler, probably her best friend, behind twice: once when she became a fugitive, and again when Kaplan faked her death. That he's still been there for her every time she comes back. That he asks nothing of her other than she do her job and be a good person. That no matter how many times she screws up, he's still there. She's used to people leaving; everyone seems to leave her, given enough time. Her birth parents, Sam, Tom, her old friends, even Red from time to time. But Ressler's never left, never vanished off the face of the earth without warning like Tom and Red are prone to doing, and that simple fact makes her uncomfortable every time she remembers it. Everyone leaves. But he's stayed. And she's left not knowing why or what it means.

She rests her head on his shoulder slightly, trying to stay focused on their mission as she murmurs, "We just... we can't mess this up, okay? It's important."

He pauses, turns to look at her as he brings his hand up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. It's intimate and she finds herself leaning into his touch more than intended, even for their cover as a couple, as she meets his gaze -  _his eyes are so soft_ \- and he says, "I know, Keen," in a tone that conveys far more under its surface. She finds herself floundering for words, struggling for a reply, but comes up only with a smile that feels more natural than any she's given in a long time. His mouth quirks up at the edges and his eyes grow even softer as he continues to look at her, and she can feel her own smile continuing to spread across her face.

The background orchestral music fades into a transition, making the low buzz of high-society chatter more audible amidst the clinking of champagne glasses and the clicks and whirs of the professional photography equipment carried by the press at this high-profile event. Rising above the elegant cacophony, a familiar throaty chuckle carries across the room to Liz's ears and her arm tightens in Ressler's almost imperceptibly. His eyes flicker to hers at the disturbance. Noting her sudden grimace, his gaze tracks hers to a familiar face standing at the center of attention in a throng of famous millionaires and billionaires gathered across the room, regaling them with some far-fetched tale accompanied by lewd gestures. As the man's motions grow more animated, Ressler's jaw clenches and he growls out a low, "Son of a bitch."

Just as Ressler makes to stride over to confront the man and Liz attempts to tug him back to save their cover, the man in question smiles broadly at them, clearly already aware of their presence as he waves them over to him. Ressler grits his teeth as he glances at Liz to confirm they're on the same page before reluctantly going to meet the man. Liz fixes her best socialite smile on her face as she walks across the ballroom arm in arm with Ress. Luckily, she doesn't have to think of anything to say that will keep their cover and simultaneously ferret out why and how Raymond Reddington is here, because said man speaks first.

"Moira! Elliott! What a  _pleasure_ to see the both of you here! I had no  _idea_ I would find the likes of you in a place like this! How long has it been - two years? Three? No, don't tell me... it was Moscow, that dreadful incident with Pieter, of course! I remember that - well, I hesitate to call him a man - and his horrendous  _fiends_ of dogs. More like the hellhounds of Hades, if you ask me. Ruined a perfectly good pair of slacks of yours, didn't they, Elliott?" Here he pauses, head tilted infuriating with a lazy smile stamped across his face, waiting for them to play along.

She's just about to nudge Ressler when he responds smoothly, gelling to the yarn Red's spinning. "That's right," he chuckles with a half-grin. "Ruined a business deal for you, too, if I'm remembering correctly." He has an amused look on his face, as if they really are two old friends shooting the breeze. She's seen him undercover before, of course, but it's been a while since she's seen him in action like this. It may never cease to amaze her just how good he is at it. How seamlessly he can improvise and convince everyone in a room of the character he's playing. She feels her own lips quirk up as a rush of pride and fierce fondness for him surges up inside her.

Red smiles back, almost approvingly, as he chortles, throwing his head back and crowing, "That's right! So you do recall our adventures, then, Elliott! Excellent, excellent!" He turns his broad smile and charm on her next. "And you, Moira, beautiful as ever, of course. But still with this dolt? Ah well, perhaps the next time we find ourselves in Moscow together, I'll be able to convince you to... hmm, taste something new, shall we say." His eyes are sparkling as he plays this charade, and she has to resist the instinctual urge to huff and roll her eyes fondly, instead smiling coyly at him in return and loosely offering him a hand to kiss. He instantly takes her hand in his own as he presses the lightest of kisses against her knuckles, lingering for a moment before drawing away and tugging her to his side under the pretense of kissing her cheek.

"You have to go, Lizzie. It's not safe for you to be here. Babineaux and his men are here, and they will stop at nothing to get you. Take Donald and go to the third door down the hall to your right, then up the staircase for two flights. Dembe should be waiting there, and he'll lead you to a safe place and provide you with transportation. Listen to me, Lizzie, this is urgent. Hurry." His voice is low, rushed in her ear, lips imperceptibly moving. To any onlookers, it would appear only as a prolonged embrace, not a transfer of covert information. 

As Liz withdraws from his side, she maintains eye contact, silently asking  _here? Now?_ His face flashes solemn and he gives only the slightest upward tilt of his chin to indicate he's understood her before immediately reverting back into his character. "Oh, Elliott... I must say, I will never understand how a man such as yourself managed to marry a lady as lovely and clever as your Moira. Listen to her and you'll go far in life. But if you hurt her - well, let's just say I'll be coming for you." There's a sudden flash of danger in Red's eyes as he sizes up to Ressler, clearly meaning what he just said, before bursting into hearty laughter, the men around him following suit. 

Ressler chuckles as he says, "I know," with a hint of humor before adding, "I count my blessings that she's in my life every day," with an undercurrent of sincerity that makes Liz's heart flutter traitorously. _H_ _e's undercover, he doesn't mean it,_ she reminds herself, but the way Ress is looking resolutely at Red as the older man stares back probingly, seeming to search for the truth in his eyes, well - it  _feels_ real. And that's dangerous.

"As you should," Red responds with a frustratingly mysterious smile at Ressler that she can't read. "As you should. Well, it was a pleasure to run into the two of you, but I'm afraid I can't allow you to usurp all of my time with these gentlemen - I've been  _dying_ to catch up, especially with you, Salvatore, I simply  _must_ know how that story with the nuns and the brothel ends! I'm sure I'll see you two again very soon, but if not... we'll always have Moscow. Best of regards to the both of you. Enjoy the gala!" 

As the group of older men slowly meander their way towards the open bar, Red throws one last remark at them. "Oh, and Elliot, remember to listen to your wife!" 

Ressler looks down at her as Red ambles off, brow furrowed. "What was that? Did he tell you something?"

"Yeah. We need to go." Her voice is pitched low as she tugs him forward by linking their arms together once more. The sturdy warmth of his body pressed near hers blurs her focus for a second and it takes her a moment to get back to what she was saying. "Babineaux and his crew are here."

Ressler's reaction is instant; she can feel his muscles tense, and absently, she reaches up to soothe him, stroking his shoulder gently. He looks at her hand as if it's a foreign object. Stung, she goes to remove it, but he places his hand over hers before she can. She looks up at him hesitantly, pulse racing. His thumb is rubbing circles into her palm and it's distracting, so, so distracting, and his eyes are dark and soft, wondering, tender, and her eyes flick to his mouth before she can help it. His lips are slightly parted, and as he licks them without thinking, she swallows, hard. His eyes track the movement of her throat and grow darker, hotter. The warmth of his hand is almost burning and Liz feels that familiar thrill of attraction in the pit of her stomach as his gaze dips to her lips. Subconsciously, she takes a step forward, moving one hand to caress his face, and he mirrors her, drawing closer and stroking the hair away from her face, until -

BANG. An explosion rocks the main hall, sending exhibitions flying and the chandelier crashing down as people run screaming for cover. Ress shields Liz as he draws his weapon and she fumbles for hers, secure in a thigh holster under her long dress. Together, they peer around the corner of the side hallway they were cloistered in, before a flurry of gunshots ring out from upstairs and they retreat. Several screams are cut off abruptly. From where Liz and Ressler are standing below, they can hear the thuds of heavy-duty combat boots sweeping the floor above them. 

"How many?" Liz whispers. "Twenty, thirty?"

Ressler nods tersely. "Somewhere in that range."

"Do you think it's Babineaux's crew?"

"Seems most likely. That's why Red told you to go, right?"

"Yeah." She takes a shuddering breath. "He said Dembe was here, too."

"Shit," Ressler curses beneath his breath.

"Yeah. On the third floor, two flights above us."

Ressler is silent for a second. "He'll be okay, Liz. Red, too. They're survivors. They can take care of themselves."

"I know," Liz murmurs back.

Another round of gunshots go off upstairs. "So what's our plan? Two agents can't exactly get rid of thirty men with so many civilians around."

"I don't know, Keen," Ressler responds honestly, jaw working as he tries to figure out a plan of attack.

"How do you think they got here? Did Alessandro get word we were coming here for information on him and tip off Babineaux? They hate each other. Why would Ali reach out to Babineaux now, after years of trying to assassinate each other? It makes no sense," Liz is mumbling mostly to herself, brain spinning as she tries to work out what's happening. Another loud crash rings out.

From upstairs, a familiar voice echoes down to them. "Gentlemen! How fine to see you! Effective as always, Baba, though I still say your technique could use refining. It's... so crude," Red says with distaste. She can just picture him gazing at all the dead bodies, all the blood spilled across the marble floors, with displeasure.

"I did not ask for your opinion, Reddington," a thick Middle Eastern accent snarls out. "Neither did I know you would be here. Perhaps I should have guessed. You always did have a taste for the finer things in life. All that  _waste_ , the  _extravagance_ \- it reeks of you." It sounds like he spits.

"Hm," Red's mild hum responds. "So tell me, Baba, what are you doing here? Not here for the waste and extravagance, then, I take it?"

"I'm here for Rostova. Your little friend, Masha Rostova. It is time for her to pay for what her kin has done to mine. Where is she?"

"Well, you said it yourself; she's my friend. And I am loyal to my friends. So I suggest you leave. Now." Red's voice is polite but threatening.

"Why should I listen to you, old man? Word is, you're broke. No resources. No  _friends_ to speak of. Your empire is crumbling, and your days are over."

"I prefer the term illiquid," Red says evenly.

There's another snarl, and then a muffled shout from Red and a loud thump.

"Red," Liz breathes out, eyes filling with tears. "No. _No_."

Ressler is at her side, pulling her tight against him as she struggles to contain her dry sobs. "Liz, you have to be quiet, or they'll find us, okay? You need to be quiet. I'm here, I've got you, we're going to be okay," he murmurs simple reassurances into her hair, the same way he did after the Stewmaker, the same way he did when she learned Agnes was gone after they reunited at the Summer Palace, and she's flooded with feelings of sudden overwhelming gratitude and appreciation for him.

"Thank you," she murmurs. It's hardly enough to express how she feels, but it's a start. 

"Masha!" Babineaux's voice carries through the silence of the formerly bustling gala. "Come out, come out, wherever you are!" His voice takes on a sing-song quality. "Don't you want to play with your friend, Raymond? Come play, Masha, come play!" There's silence for a few moments as Ress and Liz remain motionless in their hallway, hidden from sight. "Masha, I want you to listen up - you hear this?" A round of ammo is fired off above them. "If you don't come out in thirty seconds, the next round will be fired in the heads of these civilians I have kneeling in front of me. And you wouldn't want that blood on your hands, now would you? After all, you were an agent, weren't you? Serve and protect and all that? Let's see if you ever really believed in protecting these people. Thirty seconds, Masha."

The blood is pounding in Liz's ears as she turns to Ressler, already shaking his head no. "Liz, you can't - "

"Listen to me. I need to do this. I can't save everyone, but I can save those people he's about to kill. He won't kill me, not yet, so you have time. Find Dembe and call for help. Please, Ressler, this is our best option. I believe in us, okay? I can save these people, and you can come back and save the rest. And me, and Red." She looks up at him, his face angry but not at her, and pauses for a second, feeling the need for a better goodbye. "Just..." She hesitates, then wraps her hands around his neck and kisses him quickly before retreating. "We'll talk. Later."

"You better survive, because I'm going to kick your ass when I see you again, Keen," she hears his grumble from behind her and smiles as her nerves overwork with adrenaline and fear.

"Five seconds, Masha!"

She emerges from the hallway, silently praying that Ress is already leaving, hands above her head. Taking a deep breath, she yells, "I'm here. Don't hurt them."

Almost instantly, her chest is covered with sniper dots. Babineaux strolls from the shadows to the edge of the balcony, looking down at her. This is the first time she's seeing the man, and she takes him in quickly. Brown skin, black hair and beard, face and arms covered in scars and welts. Babineaux in the flesh. "So this is the infamous Masha Rostova. Not much, are you. Certainly nothing to be afraid of," he grins, exposing yellowing teeth.

He turns to a beefy man in fatigues standing next to him and says, "Fetch her." The beefy man nods to some soldiers standing near the wall who proceed to approach her, weapons still trained on her.

"Don't fight my men, Rostova. Play nice, and perhaps you will see your friend Raymond again." He smiles at her as if she's a fly caught in his spiderweb, and it makes her skin crawl, but she gazes stubbornly at him even as his men reach her. One holds out a rag, nodding sharply at it. Steeling herself, she breathes in.

* * *

Her head is dully throbbing in the fuzzy way it does after a night of heavy drinking. As her eyes slowly shutter open, focusing on her surrounding, the cold bite of metal against her wrists and ankles distracts her to realize she's cuffed to a chair in a dimly lit room, sitting across from Babineaux. Guards are posted at the only door in the windowless room, and she can't locate any other possible source of escape. Red is nowhere to be seen, and neither is Ressler. Everything is quiet except for the occasional mumbling from the guards and the hiss and puff of Baba's freshly lit cigar. The clamor of the gala is no longer audible, and she can't tell if she's even in the same building or if she's been moved to a second location. As she feels her heart start to rush with panic, she takes a breath.  _Calm. Focus. Remember your training._

Baba finally glances over at her. "Good. You're awake." His tone is flat and dismissive, the rancor of earlier gone.

Liz swallows, sets her jaw firmly. "What do you want from me?" Straight to business; time to find out what Baba is trying to accomplish here tonight.

He coughs out an ugly laugh. "Blunt. I admire that. Best way to operate in this world. But you  _would_ know that, wouldn't you, being a criminal yourself."

"I may have been a criminal, but I've never been a terrorist. I do what I have to for the sake of keeping my country safe. I believe in justice and standing up for what's right. I am nothing like you." Defiant blue eyes meet amused black.

"And how do you think criminals start, princess? Many by pursuing their own form of justice. By fighting for  _their_ beliefs. What makes you any better? You know nothing." He spits on the floor before taking another long drag off his cigar.

She takes a deep breath, hands twitching in the cuffs behind her. "I know enough to know that  _you_ didn't start that way. You're loyal only to the highest bidder for your services. You were born into money, and you've built off of it. You don't try to make the world a better place, you sell to terrorists. You hate your brother and his methods, but you remain his partner in business to maintain your father's criminal empire in the Middle East. I don't know what you've ever loved or believed in beyond money and power. So that's how I know that I'm better than you." Her voice doesn't waver, and neither does her gaze.

Babineaux is silent for a beat before erupting into a bloodcurdling hyena-like cackle, angry and chilling all at once. His eyes are suddenly alight with rage as he stubs out his cigar and rises from his chair to circle her. She can almost feel the anger emanating off him and smell his foul breath. "You think I've loved nothing? I think you assume too much. I think you are a stupid girl. A stupid,  _stupid_ girl." He suddenly stops pacing, directly in front of her, and drops to his knees, now at eye level with her. "You asked what I wanted from you. So I will tell you a story, and perhaps when I am done, you will assume a little less. Or perhaps you will remain as stupid as before." Grabbing her chin roughly, he sneers in her face, squeezing tightly until she can feel tears welling in her eyes and what she's sure will be red marks on her jawline from his grip, before abruptly releasing her and walking away from her as he speaks.

"When I was a boy, I was happy. I had a mother, a father, and a brother. We lived in a village full of families like us. My father was always off working, so my mother raised us, my brother and I. She was stern but loving, kind but tough, compassionate but down to earth. She taught me everything I knew, and I loved her as I have loved no other. Our life was simple. Off the map. Until I was ten. That was the year my mother died. Was  _murdered._ By your mother, Katarina Rostova." The name drips off his tongue like venom. "The infamous spy-master obliterated my life in a single night. Targeted our village for reasons I didn't yet understand. Killed my friends, my neighbours, everyone I ever knew. The next morning, my mother lay dying in my arms as the bleeding first light of dawn rose on the horizon, and she whispered her last word, ' _Rostova'_ , as her soul left her body.  _Rostova_. Her murderer.

The only survivors of that night were my brother and I. When our father returned from business six days later, it was to find his family dead-eyed and hollow inside. And so he took us away, raised us abroad, and so Ali and I learned about what he did, who he did business with, why our mother died. Our father was a criminal. A secret billionaire by means of selling oil to terrorists, single-handedly financing their operations. Rostova was sent to our village to take him out, to send his organization into shambles and claim it for Russia. To cut the head off the snake. And so like a mythic beast, she came, raining death upon my people. But as fate would have it, not the one man she was sent to kill." He pauses, breathing heavily, before picking up again.

"My father died when I was twenty, leaving my brother and I everything. We were each left half of his enterprise, and his will instructed us to continue his legacy. To build an empire. My brother and I argued over it. He wanted to respect my father's wishes. I wanted revenge. To smite all those tied to my father and to Rostova, all those responsible in any way for the murder of our mother. It was a long fight. I left, and he sent a man to kill me. After that, we worked out a compromise. Alessandro does the numbers, runs the business, is the brain of our operation. I'm the hand he uses to crush any who oppose us or stand in our way. To appease me, Ali agreed to sell indiscriminately to the highest bidder, not just those my father worked with, and so, slowly, I've been meting out my revenge whenever there's a chance. Whenever we need to teach my father's associates a lesson, to get them in line, or when we're hired to take out the competition. That's when I strike." He drums his fingers against the wall as his eyes bore into hers.

"So yes, there's no love lost between my brother and I. Yes, we occasionally try to kill each other. Yes, normally I would not have interfered with an operation to take out Ali - in fact, I would have applauded it, even assisted with the effort. But what you missed, you and your agents, was  _your_ connection to us. So when Ali got wind that federal agents would be at this event he wished to attend, one agent being Elizabeth Keen, also known as Masha Rostova, as exposed by the Cabal, he sent word to me. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement; I provided him with protection for the event and he provided me with a chance to gain my revenge on the Rostova bloodline. Isn't that right, brother?" He calls out loudly, arms spread wide.

One of the men she'd assumed to be guards strides forward, lean and graceful like a panther. "Indeed brother." His accent is tamer, more refined than his brother's. Dressed in a tailored grey suit, dark hair neatly trimmed back, he gives off an aura of quiet danger and sophistication. Though twins, they were a study in contrasts.

Liz finally finds her voice. "Ali."

He smiles, aloof. "You almost had me, Agent Keen, if not for my brother's abiding thirst for revenge. Kudos on that, though I think you'll find it harder to capture me next time - if there is a next time."

"Are you going to kill me?"

"Not yet."

"Yes."

They respond simultaneously, resulting in a pair of matching glares that could melt ice.

Baba speaks first. "She's mine. You said so. Her blood is mine to be shed," his growl turning more guttural as he speaks.

Ali's voice is like velvet as he seethes, "She will be.  _After_ I'm done with her."

"No. No! I want her, and I want her now. I've waited all my life. It's time for me to have my way,  _brother_ ," he snarls.

"If you've waited all your life, surely you can wait a few minutes more." Ali's tone is final, mocking but decisive.

Baba doesn't reply in English, resorting to an angry outburst in another language that Ali replies with as well. They trade words, slipping and sliding off their tongues as they enter the air. It's a frenzy of exclamations that Liz can't follow, but when they stop speaking, it's Ali who appears to be the victor of the war of words, taking Baba's vacated seat across from her with a polite smile as Baba, fuming, leaves the room with a slam of the door.

Ali waits a few moments to speak until Baba's footsteps have faded. "I apologize for my brother. His methods can be so... crude," he finishes delicately.

"And yours are better?" It comes out more challenging than she intended.

"I believe so." Ali's voice is mild.

She scoffs.

Ali continues, "I suppose you're wondering what I want from you and why I've delayed your torture and death by my brother's hands."

Liz lets out a noncomittal noise.

"I need information. Specifically, on Raymond Reddington. If you are cooperative to my questions, I may just give you a fighting chance against my brother. I would not cry if his blood is spilt instead of yours tonight. Do you understand? Yes or no." His words brook no argument.

She swallows her tongue against the questions rising in her throat. "Yes."

"Good. Then let's begin."

He pulls a device out of his pocket, flips a few switches, and sets it down in front of him before folding his arms and gazing placidly at her.

"State your name."

"Elizabeth Keen."

"Daughter of Katarina Rostova?"

"Yes."

"What do you remember of her?"

"Nothing. My first memory is of a fire. Maybe she was there, but I don't know. I don't remember anything else from before I was placed with Sam."

"How old were you?"

"Four."

"That's awfully young to lose a mother. I would know." Ali's voice is devoid of emotion, not letting her tell if those words were meant to be barbed or not.

"That wasn't a question." Staring him down, she continues to imperceptibly twist her fingers around in the cuffs, praying it won't make noise.

The corner of his mouth turns upwards. "I suppose it wasn't. How are you involved with Raymond Reddington?"

Liz rattles off the same response she always gives, the professional, sanitary version. "It was going to be my first day working at the FBI. Raymond Reddington surrendered himself that same day and said he would speak only with Elizabeth Keen. Me. So the FBI arrived at my doorstep with helicopters and - "

"I didn't ask how you met. I asked how you are involved with him."

"I - that is how I'm involved with him. I don't understand what you're asking."

He sighs melodramatically. "I suppose I'll spell it out for you then, Special Agent. What is your relationship with him? What is he to you? What are you to him?"

"I - we work together. We take down some of the worst criminals out there. He... chose me, for whatever reason. He knew my mother. He knew Sam. He knows more about my past than he's ever told me, and yet I still find myself trusting him. He makes me feel like... like I'm the center of his whole universe. Like he would do anything, go to the ends of the earth, just to keep me safe, and I don't know what I've ever done to earn that sort of devotion. And - I've come to care for him. He... means a lot to me. More than he knows. But it's... complicated." The words she's spewing out make her chest feel uncomfortably tight with the truth of them, but she pushes past it. She needs to escape. She needs to find Red and Ressler and not die. She needs to get these damn cuffs off already.

Ali's gaze is searching and far too perceptive for her liking. "That was more honesty than I was expecting from you, Agent Keen. Thank you. I have just one more request: profile Raymond Reddington for me."

Liz almost wants to laugh with the irony of it all, being called back to that first day on the job, being asked to profile that same man, only now with her years of working with him to take into account. It's almost frustrating because even after all this time, she still feels as if she doesn't know or understand the man.

"He's... he's a criminal. A murderer. He can shoot someone without looking back. There's so much darkness in him, so much death and destruction in his path, and yet people follow him willingly. He's charming. Has the manners of a gentleman. Clever, full of witty sayings and stories. Five steps ahead of everyone else, always looking to his endgame. Deeply loyal to a few, and inspires that same loyalty in those who work for him. He has... a great deal of compassion for those in harm's way and no sympathy for the ones who put them there. He doesn't forget those who wrong him or his loved ones. He will stop at nothing to protect those he loves, but believes he himself is unlovable. He has... a great deal of regret in his past and finds it hard to let go of. He's tormented by his losses and determined to set things right in the ways he can. This is a man with a deep moral center; he can't abide those who do certain despicable things, even though he has done despicable things himself. Raymond Reddington flourishes as a legend, the whispered-of Concierge of Crime, made out to be more than man. And sometimes he does come off that way, but he is ultimately very human. He is fallible. He has weaknesses and lapses in judgment. And although he's a criminal, I have come to believe that at his core, he is a good man - and if not a good man, than at the least, he still  _desires_ to be good, and sometimes that makes all the difference. He's not evil. He's not some hideous monster. He is capable of loving and being loved, I know that for a fact. He  _is_ loveable, though he feels otherwise. When he looks in the mirror, he sees a monster, but somehow he carries on, still following a moral code to dispense his own kind of justice. That takes strength, to believe yourself awful but to do good anyways. His character is... complicated and messy, but at the same time, almost very simple in a few key aspects: to protect the innocent, punish the wicked, and survive without losing his humanity. And he is still full of humanity."

Liz takes a breath, running out of things to say, uncertain of what Ali is looking for. In the corner of her mind, she suppresses the uncomfortable embarrassment of baring her own emotions in the process of profiling Red. It almost feels as if a few things have clicked into place regarding her complicated relationship with him: he loves her, and in her own way, she loves him. It suddenly strikes her that since Agnes' birth, she hasn't told him what he means to her, and he should know. Just - just in case.

Ali picks up his recorder and clicks a few more buttons before sliding it out of sight once more, apparently satisfied. "Thank you, Agent Keen. I believe I have what I'm looking for."

"What are you going to use it for?"

"That's not important for you to know," the words roll off his tongue, silky smooth. "But I did promise I would give you a fighting chance against my brother if you cooperated, which you did, and I keep my promises." He nods at a guard, who comes forward holding a key. "He will unlock you after I leave. Here are a few things you should know, in exchange for your honesty. It has been two hours since you allowed yourself to be taken captive. We are not in the same location as the gala. I don't know where Baba took Raymond Reddington. As soon as I leave, Baba will be back to torture and kill you. He has not left the premises, to the best of my knowledge. The feds are most likely on their way here, and I intend to be gone before they arrive. Any questions?"

"Why are you telling me this?" She's wary to trust Ali, even knowing he holds no love for his brother.

"Baba's become a thorn in my side. He's bad for business. I want him taken out, and this seems as good an opportunity as any. If you survive, perhaps Reddington will find it in him to thank me for saving your life by joining our enterprises. I've been meaning to expand business, and I'll be out of a partner shortly. I trust you can pass the message along?" He smiles cooly.

Liz manages a nod, mind swirling as various plans form.

"Good. I thank you for your cooperation and wish you the best of luck. Good night, Agent Keen." Ali stands, gives a half-bow in her direction, and retreats, cutting a dashing figure as he leaves. Three men follow him, leaving only the guard holding the key in the room with her. After the door closes, he swiftly uncuffs her hands and feet and moves to retreat, but Liz is ready, springing out of the chair to deck him. He falls to the floor, unconscious, and she shakes out her punching hand, then briefly stretches.

After double-checking that the guard's been knocked out cold, she retrieves his gun and looks for a phone on him but can't find one. Armed, she proceeds to the door cautiously. There are noises in the hallway but nothing coherent she can decipher. The sounds are faint and growing fainter, presumably from Ali as he leaves. But that begs the question: where's Baba? Does she go looking for him or remain ready at the door? Better to wait, prepared, than to go searching without backup and find herself at the end of a barrel of a gun, she decides quickly.

A buzzing sound begins to fill the air. A chopper? The drone of the engine roars louder for a second before quieting - presumably flying away.

From the other end of the hallway, she hears an angry thump and muffled cursing. Baba must have just realized his brother's impromptu exit. The sound of heavy boots comes her way, and she braces herself, gun cocked, finger on the trigger, prepared to wrestle him down. Without warning, the door slams open, and Baba emerges, eyes widening for a millisecond when he sees an empty chair and unconscious guard, until Liz is in his face, gun pointed straight at him.

"Are you armed? Weapons on the floor. Kick them to me. Any unexpected moves and I shoot you." Her voice is loud, authoritative. Baba is slow to react, clearly caught off guard by the turning of the tables.

"Hands in the air," she orders. He obeys, slowly. "Good. No sudden movements." With one hand, she retrieves the cuffs used to restrain her. As she approaches him, he lunges wildly, hands going for her gun, but she ducks, twists, and pins him on the floor in a matter of seconds. She's straddling his back, gun pressed directly to his neck as she cuffs his hands together successfully.

"Where's your phone?" She demands, but he only grunts in response. Digging the gun harder into his neck, he squirms. "Phone," she repeats louder.

"Pocket," he finally growls.

Pawing through his pockets roughly, she finally finds a burner. Gun still to Baba's head, she dials with one hand, pressing the phone to her ear and mouth with her shoulder once she's entered the final digit, praying the other line will pick up.

One ring. Two. Five... the digital tone is replaced with a short, sharp crackle of feedback. "Ressler." She wants to cry because there he is, sounding so  _alive_ , but she chokes down her emotions because she's not out of the woods yet. Still, her voice is thick as she responds.

"Ress? It's Liz."

There's a sudden inhale on the other line, and shit, maybe she is crying a little. "Keen? That's you?" His voice is almost disbelieving and she wants to laugh because she can just picture the look on his face.

"Yeah, yeah, it's me," she can hear the smile in her voice, and God, that's embarrassing, but then he's speaking again, and she can hear the emotion in his voice, too, and it's suddenly the best thing in the world.

"Oh Jesus, thank God," he sounds desperate, voice deep and rumbling just slightly, and she finds herself shivering in response, and shit, she can't get distracted just by his  _voice_ right now, there'll be time for that later. "Are you okay? Where are you?"

"I'm okay, but I don't know where I am. I got chloroformed, and they moved me. I don't think this location could be more than an hour away from the gala, if that helps, but I don't know how they transported me. Can you track this cell? It's a burner."

"Yeah, we're already on it, but it'll take some time. Luckily, we're still in the vicinity of the gala, so once we get a location, it shouldn't take us long to get there. Just stay on the line. Are you alone?"

"No, um," Liz glances around as if to double check her surroundings, "I've got Baba in custody right here with me, cuffed and at gunpoint, and there's a guard I knocked out maybe twenty feel away frome us. But as far as I know, that's it. I think the other guys left."

"Holy..." His voice fades out for a second, and she panics, thinking the line cut out, but then she hears him yelling dimly, "Hurry up on tracing that call! It's urgent!" There's a staticky noise, and then Ressler's back in her ear, rushed and worried. "You mean Babineaux is right there, fully conscious as we speak?"

She looks down at Baba's mostly unmoving form. "Yeah."

Ressler swears, low. "Fuck. Be careful, Keen. That guy's twice your size. Don't let him overpower you."

"I  _know_ ," she snaps, annoyed at being told how to handle the situation.

There's more rustling on his end, but then there's less background chatter and all she can hear is his voice and his breathing, unsteady. When he speaks again, it's quieter, and she realizes with a bit of a twinge in her stomach that he must've moved away from everyone else to have a bit of privacy with her. "I'm sorry. I know you're handling it, and I know you can take care of yourself," he sounds tired, and she wishes she was there with him to smooth out the crease of worry in his brow she knows is there. "I just... I'm scared, okay? I can't lose you."

The admission weighs heavy in the air between them, and she has to swallow before murmuring, "I can't lose you either."

He exhales, swallows. If she closes her eyes, she can see the twitch of his jaw, feel the warmth of his breath...

There's a sudden burst of commotion on the line, and she flinches slightly at the abrupt burst. Underneath her, Baba shifts, and she once again digs the gun into his skin harder until he stops moving.

Different voices cut in and out for a few minutes on the other line, and she can hear Ressler's drifting in and out amongst them, until he speaks directly to her again. "Liz, we got a location. We're on our way. I'll see you soon. I'm putting you on speaker while we drive. Samar's here, too."

"Hello, Liz. Are you alright?" Samar's voice is taciturn but concerned.

"Hey, Samar. Yeah, I'm okay. The sooner you guys get here, the better, though."

The engine starting and car moving is audible as someone adjusts the phone until the rumble quiets. "We're on our way, Liz. We were already close to you, so it should just be a matter of minutes til we're there."

"Okay. Thanks." Liz pauses, turning the question over in her head, fearful of the answer before proceeding to ask anyways. "Have you found Reddington? Is he okay?"

There's silence on the other end. Liz's stomach churns and flips. "What about Dembe?" she adds, needing to know.

 Ressler speaks up. "Dembe's fine. He escaped on his own. We met up outside the gala and made our way to safety together. He's glad you're okay. Red is..." His voice trails off.

 Samar picks it up for him. "We haven't found him yet, Liz. We're still combing the gala, but he seems to have been moved. It's possible he was moved to the same location you were. Have you seen any sign of him?"

Liz sighs, frustrated once again, craning her neck as if it'll open up a magical portal to let her look beyond the door. "No. I've been stuck inside this same room the whole time. But Ali told me he didn't know where Baba took Reddington - "

"Wait, Ali's there, too?" Ressler's voice is loud, incredulous, and she can make out the sound of the car accelerating.

Samar snaps, "Ressler, slow down. We can't help her if we get killed by your reckless driving."

There's a grumble from him, and Liz can picture the both of them rolling their eyes at the other as he reluctantly slows down to... well, still a dangerous speed.

"No, he's not here anymore. At least, I don't think so. I'm fairly certain he left with a few guys by a chopper on the roof. But I think he's the reason I'm still alive. He had a guard stay behind to uncuff me."

It sounds as if Ressler is swearing below his breath, his knuckles probably turning white on the steering wheel. "Keen, you're killing me here. You mean to tell me _two_ different terrorists got their hands on you?"

"I mean... I guess. They were working together, though, at least to capture me, but Ali turned on his brother. He unlocked me in exchange for answering some questions."

"What questions, Liz?" It's Samar, voice wary.

"Stuff about Reddington. My mother. I think he just wanted to confirm I was important to Reddington so he could do business with him in exchange for saving my life."

"That was all he wanted?" Ressler sounds disbelieving.

"I don't know. Maybe. I'm sure a guy as clever as him has some ulterior motive. But that can wait for us to figure out tomorrow. For now, I'm just ready for you guys to get here." Liz lets her eyes flutter shut for a heartbeat, letting the exhaustion of the day wash over her. She's bone-tired, every muscle seeming to ache.

"We're close, Liz," Samar's voice is soft and calming. "Just a little longer, okay? Just keep talking to us."

"What did Baba want with you?" Ressler's voice crackles through.

"My mother, she - she destroyed his village when he was a child. He wanted revenge. Blood for blood. Mine for his mother's."

"That was it? Revenge?"

"It seems to be the driving force in his life. Ali is... more complicated."

"Complicated how?"

"I don't know what to think of him. He seems to be in the criminal world for money and power, but I think there's more to it. He wants to work with Red, even knowing he's my CI. I think... I think it's possible he could become an asset. In time."

She can already hear Ressler beginning to argue, but Samar speaks over him deliberately. "We'll keep that in mind. Liz, I think we're here. We're going to need to hang up now, but we should see you shortly. When you hear us, yell out so we know where you are, okay?"

"Yeah. Got it."

"See you soon, Keen," Ressler signs off, and a dead tone fills her ear. The call's over. She puts down the phone, refocusing her attention on keeping Baba still, straining her ears for the sound of the FBI breaking down doors. So far, there's nothing, but then she hears the faint wail of sirens, and her heart begins to beat faster. 

Then there's the echo of doors being slammed on the other side of the building, the yells of  _Clear!_ and the stamping of feet. Liz could weep from the joy of the familiar noises. Baba is cursing into the floor beneath her as the feds swarm the facility, and then she hears Samar and Ressler shouting her name.

_"Liz!"_

"Here!" She yells. "I'm here!"

"Liz?" Samar yells back, voice growing nearer. "Liz, can you hear me?'

"Yeah, I'm here, Samar, you're getting closer!"

Liz hears footsteps outside the door pause. "Here?"

"Yeah, I'm in here!"

Suddenly, the door is open and Samar is there, decked out in tactical gear and followed by a handful of burly SWAT guys, scanning the room before calling out, "Ressler! We got her!" She approaches Liz, saying, "You can get up now, we've got it from here." The SWAT guys take Babineaux away with them, and Liz stands up, breathing a shaky sigh of relief, her legs wobbly as Samar embraces her.

"I'm so glad you're okay, Liz. It's good to see you," she breathes into her hair. Liz clutches onto her tighter for a moment, feeling the emotion well up in her chest, until Samar releases her with a soft, unreadable smile. "I think someone else will be glad to see you, too."

She steps aside, and Liz sees Ressler standing in the door frame, still dressed in his tux from the gala, now dirtied and torn, with his tactical gear over it. It's a ridiculous juxtaposition, and Liz would laugh in any other scenario, but for now, she's too busy absorbing his presence. His lips move slightly, mouthing her name, and without thinking, she launches herself at him. He catches her, of course, stumbling for only a moment before he's holding her up and she's allowing herself to collapse into his arms. She's so tired, and he feels like home, and she allows herself to sink further into him. She doesn't know how long it is they stand like that - hours? minutes? days? - until they're interrupted by a coughed "ahem" behind them and a stone-faced officer reporting to Ressler, "We found Reddington, sir."

Everything seems to happen in a blur after that. The uniformed officers retrieve Red, drugged and only half-conscious, and remove him to a black site. Ressler fills her in on the capture of Babineaux's crew that he left at the gala, the status of the civilians she saved - no one was killed after Baba got her. That everyone is okay, though ultimately their original mission was a dud since they didn't capture Ali, and he's still at large. But Ressler tells her that's work for another day, that "you did good, Keen," in that rumble of his while they're in the back of a police transport, being taken to another location for debriefing.

"No," she corrects him sleepily, her head on his shoulder. " _We_ did good."

She can hear his smile as he murmurs, "Get some rest, Liz. I'll wake you when we get there." It doesn't take long for sleep to set in, with the warmth of him against her, the steady, soothing rise and fall of his chest, and the comfort of being near him.

As she drifts off, she could swear she hears Samar mumbling something from the front seat about "needing to tell her how you feel" and Ressler responding, "I know," but she has no time to think about it before the blissful weight of sleep settles upon her.

* * *

 She comes to with a start. When she doesn't immediately recognize her surroundings, she begins to panic, flashing back to her kidnapping, but before she can react, Ressler is there at her side. "Hey, hey, it's okay. Liz, it's okay. You fell asleep in the car, and I told the officers to let you rest, since the debriefing can wait, so they left you with me. We're at my apartment."

She takes a moment to untense, breathe in the morning air and see the sunshine streaming into Ress's place. He's right there next to her, hair ruffled from sleep, ungelled, wearing simple flannel pajama pants and a soft cotton T-shirt. He looks so handsome, and she starts to instinctively push the thought away until she remembers she promised herself they'd talk about the kiss... later. It's later, and they're both safe and alone. She may not find a better time.

So she clears her throat and looks up at him. "Thank you. For everything. I... I don't think I tell you enough just how much you mean to me. How much I appreciate you. You're... you're so good, Ress, so much better than me, and I feel like I can never be  _good_ enough for you. But - I'm trying to be a better person. To be stronger on my own, for Agnes. That's why I left Tom, because he was... a crutch for me. A way for me to be better than  _someone_ , but I don't need that in my life, and he was never really the man I fell in love with. The man I married so long ago never really existed, and it took a long time for me to accept that, but... I'm there now. And I'm okay on my own. But I... I don't want to be on my own anymore. Not if you'll - "

Ressler's been gazing at her as she rambles, a smile growing across his face, until he reaches up to cut her off, cupping her face and kissing her solidly in one smooth move. She smiles into the kiss, and she can feel his smile against hers as their lips move. It tastes like sunshine feels. He pulls her down into his lap, drawing a surprised laugh from her, and holds her close, kissing her neck sweetly as she strokes his hair, revelling in the soft feel of it. "So... I didn't really get to finish what I was saying, and I just want to be really clear - "

"Look, Liz, I think I need to say something, too." He stops kissing her to look at her, blue eyes serious. "I've been trying not to say it for a long time, but I think you need to hear it." He exhales. "I love you. And I'm in love with you, and I have been for a long time." Liz's stomach is giddy, and she's sure she's smiling like an idiot. "And it's been killing me to not say it for so long, but - since you kissed me last night, I thought it was time. And  _Jesus,_ I was so worried last night when they took you, I promised myself I would finally say it, and - and yeah. I love you and I want to be with you."

Liz's eyes are watery and her face is flushed pink with happiness. "I love you, and I want to be with you, too," she breathes.

She's never seen Donald Ressler grin so widely than as she says those words, his whole face full of light as he kisses her again, and again, and again. His hands slide into her hair as he mumbles, "I love you," against her mouth, into their kisses. She laughs breathlessly, dimples showing, and presses her forehead to his.

"I love you," she murmurs back. He ducks his head almost bashfully, eyes sparkling in the morning light, before turning his smile back on her. 

"God, Liz, you don't know... you don't know how happy you make me," he sounds almost in awe of her.

"And I don't think you know just how happy you make me. How much better you make my life," she replies honestly.

"I - wow," he exhales, smiling. "Wow."

"Wow," she agrees gently.

They gaze like lovestruck fools at each other, basking in their presence with soft smiles and touches, until Ressler stands, offering her a hand to assist herself up, drawing her in tightly to him. "I hate myself for even ruining this moment," he sighs, "but I know you wanted to see Red once the agents cleared him. And just before you woke up, they sent word, and I was going to tell you, but I got... distracted. And I know I should mention it now, before I get even more distracted." He flashes a teasing smile at her.

"So he's okay?"

"Yeah. He's good. He wants to see you, though. I can take you down to the Post Office whenever you're ready to meet him."

Sooner is better than later, Liz decides, and if she spends any longer alone with Ressler, they probably won't make it outside for another day. "Can we grab coffee on the way?"

He smiles fondly down at her, eyes crinkling. "Of course, Keen, what are partners for?" She finds herself laughing against her will as he adds, "Just let me change first. Don't even want to imagine what Reddington would say if he saw me in my pajamas." 

She watches his back muscles stretch underneath the thin material of his shirt as he heads off to his room, biting her lip absentmindedly before flushing and looking away. There will be time for that later.

* * *

 They walk into the Post Office side by side as always, nothing unusual for them, and yet it seems to take Reddington no time at all to detect a change in their relationship. "Lizzie! Donald! Wonderful to see the both of you after the party last night. And I'm so _pleased_  to see you've finally taken that next step in your relationship! Congratulations are in order, I suppose." The man in the hat smiles broadly at them as they approach him.

Liz slows down, glancing at Ressler in confusion. How does he know that...

"You're wearing the same outfit as last night, Lizzie, and Donald doesn't have his hair gel in. He also looks a great deal  _happier_ than normal, and I can't imagine what else could have put him in so good a mood."

"I suppose there's no need to break the news to you, then, since you already know," Liz retorts drily. Reddington just looks amused.

"I'll give you two some privacy," Ressler says gruffly. "Need to talk to Cooper." He gives Liz a backwards look as if to say  _good luck_ before heading up the stairs. She snickers silently.

"So," Reddington interjects, following her gaze. "Are you happy, Lizzie? Will you be happy with him?" He sounds a bit more serious now that Ressler's out of earshot.

"Yes," she answers simply.

"Then I am happy for you, Lizzie. Though I do dislike saying it to his face, I must admit that Donald is a good man. I admire his character, and I've become fond of him. I've seen his feelings for you develop over the years, and I trust his intentions are sincere. I wish your relationship nothing but happiness."

Liz is overcome by emotion. She grabs Red's hand and squeezes it. "Thank you," she lets out. He squeezes her hand back and doesn't let go. Taking a deep breath, she starts to speak, the weight of his hand in hers urging her on. "Last night, I realized something. Ali asked me to profile you, to talk about our relationship, and it helped a couple of things become clear to me." She looks at him, hoping he'll take in what she has to say, as she continues. "In the past, I haven't always been fair to you. I've put standards on you that I haven't put on others in my life. I've been... selfish with my heart and my feelings, but I'm trying to do better with them now. And so I know I need to tell you that you are important to me, that I want you in my life. That I know your faults and accept you regardless. And I remembered something I started to tell you once and never finished, and I'm going to say it now."

She swallows, feeling his hand tighten around hers as he gazes at her, eyes full of shielded emotion. "Raymond, I do love you. It's complicated and I can't promise I'll always agree with the things you do, but... I do care about you. Probably more than I should," she tries to laugh, but it sounds a little choked. "So I won't fake my own death again, and I hope you won't just vanish on me. And... I think that's what I had to say. Thank you for all you've done for me. I'm sorry for the pain I've caused you. Let's - I hope we can move onto a new chapter together."

Red swallows, throat bobbing, as he grips her hand firmly. "Thank you, Elizabeth," his voice is husky, "That means... a great deal to me, and I will continue to protect you, Agnes, and now Donald with my life. I know... I know my presence in your life hasn't always been easy, that the things I say and do alarm you, but I hope you know that your presence in my life has been nothing short of one of the greatest blessings I've ever been given. You are... a remarkable woman, strong and beautiful and caring, and it is beyond my capabilities to believe you are able to love someone like me. But for what it's worth, I love you, too. You are... my life. My heart. A world without you is one that I don't care to live in." He coughs, briefly. "It heartens me to know that you are looking forward once again. I will do my best to join you in that venture."

Liz's eyes are teary as he stops speaking. He swallows, looks at her steadily with a slight dip of his chin. She runs her thumb along the back of his hand with a small smile. "To our next chapter, then."

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully this was okay??? It ended up way longer than I was expecting (can't believe it made it to 10k??) and also with way more plot than I was planning. I actually might do an epilogue/one more chapter to wrap things up since I wrote over half of this the night before it was due, o o p s, and I'm not crazy about the ending as it is. Also I apologize for any major typos - I typed this up on my phone and autocorrect sucks.


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